


Mox

by Ember (HMSquared)



Series: The Chronicles of Dean Ambrose and Jon Moxley [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Brothers, Companionable Snark, Cravings, Hotels, Hugs, Peaceful driving, Post-WWE, Quiet, Scars, Smoking, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 15:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/Ember
Summary: On a windless night, Dean drives back to Cincinnati with Mox by his side and considers his future.





	Mox

**Author's Note:**

> I am very, very excited about Dean returning to the Jon Moxley character. It feels a little weird, but as long as he's happy, I'm happy.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a quiet, windless night. The stars twinkled in the sky, and there weren't many cars on the road. In short, perfect.

The duffel bag sat in the back seat, jostling every once in a while when they hit a bump in the road. Mox was asleep, head pressed against the left window. His mouth was open slightly, but he wasn't snoring. Dean glanced at him in the mirror and smiled, before focusing back on the road. It felt strange, being done with WWE.

Their match had happened; he had scored the pin. The backstage scene afterward had been as expected, people coming over to say good-bye. Seth and Roman had stayed by Dean for most of it, nodding thank yous as the well-wishers scuttled away. The Kingslayer had nearly cried a couple of times, which made perfect sense: his soulmate was leaving him.

The bag didn't have much in it: only his dog tags, pictures from the old days, and tape for his wrists. Even so, Dean had lugged it out of the building on his shoulder, treating it like it was the heaviest thing he owned. Which it technically was, considering the memories.

Mox hadn't watched the match. He had just sat in the locker room, chewing sunflower seeds and scraping his fingers across the metal doors. The underside of his nails was now bloody, something Dean hadn't commented on. It seemed strange that wasn't always the case, considering what his demon twin was like.

They pulled into a motel parking lot, and Dean got out. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he walked across the concrete square to a drug store on the other side of the street. The bell dinged when he opened the door, causing the former Lunatic Fringe to smile. He wasn't sure why.

The man behind the counter rose an eyebrow when all he came up with was a pack of cigarettes. Smiling, Dean said quietly,

"They're not for me. A friend."

"And how old is this friend, sir?" the man asked as Dean pulled out his wallet. Thinking hard, he replied,

"23." The temptation to call Mox old was real but extremely unwise. He paid for the cigarettes, thanked the man, then jogged back across the street. Sliding open the door, he whispered, "Wake up, Mox," then stepped back. Mox's hearing was incredible when he was asleep, something Dean had learned the hard way.

The younger man stirred, groaning slightly. Blinking a few times, he looked over at Dean and snapped,

"The world ending, Fringe?" Smirking, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the box.

"Peace offering, Mox." The demon hungrily accepted them.

Five minutes later, Dean came back outside with a hotel room key to find Mox sitting on the step of the van, smoking. His red hair fell over his face, the scar on his nose visible under the street lamp. Breathing out a puff of smoke, Mox chuckled,

"You bought me cigarettes and let me sleep, what's the occasion?" Dean shrugged.

"We're on our own now, Mox." Nodding, Mox tossed his cigarette butt forward, grazing the side of Dean's cheek before it hit the ground. Smiling at the welt forming on his face, Dean held up the room key and said, "Come on, let's go inside." He turned around and started walking; Mox slipped the box of cigarettes into his pocket and followed.

They showered and changed, then Dean opened a window. Laying back on one of the beds, hands behind his head, Mox sighed. Picking at his nails, he whispered,

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Scratching his neck, Dean sat down on the other bed, watching Mox. Looking over at him, the demon said quietly,

"Do you ever...you know, think about what might have happened if we didn't join WWE?"

"All the time," Dean chuckled. "I wouldn't have met my best friends, and I wouldn't have almost died from an infection." He smiled, but Mox shook his head. Something was wrong. "You okay, Mox?"

"Don't worry about it." And with that, Mox turned over and fell back asleep. Dean got under the covers, turned off the light and let his body drift off.

 

Around 3 a.m., a noise woke him. Eyes opening, Dean registered the sound of someone moving quietly in the bathroom, looking for something. Curling his fists, he silently got up and moved across the floor. Getting ready to throw a punch, he flicked on the light switch, causing a sharp swear to erupt from the intruder.

Mox was leaning against the sink, pressing a towel to his hand. Swallowing, Dean stepped forward and whispered,

"Let me see." Mox scooted away from him, something that wasn't surprising. What was surprising was the terror in his eyes, the pain. "Let me see, Mox." He pulled away the towel and gasped.

Mox's knuckle was bloody, tiny shards of glass embedded in his skin. There was a distinct pattern to the cuts, and after a few seconds, Dean realized it was barbed wire. Looking at Mox, he whispered,

"What happened?"

"I went down to the train tracks." Dean's eyes widened. Back when he was on the indies, they had found an abandoned train station, complete with tracks and a wire fence. Many drunk smoking sessions had occurred there, along with a few spars. But then Dean had stopped smoking, started looking for bigger fish, and the visits had ceased. He could only guess why Mox had gone there.

"You're not okay, Mox." Mox shook his head, wincing as he pried a shard of glass from his hand. Looking at his reflection, he whispered,

"I needed the rush, Dean. Always have." Suddenly him demanding a presence in Dean's body during his matches made sense. Shaking, he reached over and hugged his demon twin, holding him as any other brother would.

"I'm sorry, Mox." Nodding, Mox whispered,

"I've been thinking, Dean. You might not want a career anymore, but I do. I need it." There was a place in his mind, and Dean instantly knew where.

"AEW?" Mox silently nodded. Pulling away, Dean squeezed his shoulders and replied,

"I'll call Cody in the morning. Now get some sleep. I'll clean up." Nodding, Mox washed his hand and left the bathroom. When Dean had finished wiping up the blood and returned to the bedroom five minutes later, he found Mox curled up on the sofa, a smile on his face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!


End file.
